


3 AM

by doctormissy



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cravings, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, Humor, I'm Bad At Summaries, Living Together, M/M, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormissy/pseuds/doctormissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost 3 am. There is a storm and Q can't sleep. He is starving. James sleeps next to him and ignores him. Q takes revenge in a rather unexpected way and goes to the kitchen. </p><p>(To do a summary of this is bloody hard. In other words - fluffy, cracky, domestic, middle-of-the-night 00Q. Nothing more.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 AM

**Author's Note:**

> So it seems there's one 00Q fic every day now. Okay. I have so many ideas! Seriously, I've fallen into the 00Q hell completely and can't get out. Everything I do or hear is an AU or a cure domestic fluff. This, as many others, is inspired by my experience. Mix of last three days, in fact. I have five more fic ideas to write yet, don't worry. A metalhead!Q AU (in his uni times at least) or just them wondering through some foreign city. Or a hike in the mountains. I'm all for domestic fluff and established relationship - maybe you've noticed you won't get anything else from me already, except for that time I got a prompt.

“I can’t sleep,” the Quartermaster muttered against his pillow and rolled over to his back. Rain pattered against the windowsill for about three hours, ceaseless and increasing in heaviness, and occasional lightning shone through the dark summer sky, accompanied by a loud thunder. “I can’t bloody sleep.”

He stared on the ceiling in a vain hope of finding comfort in it and getting off at last. A swaying spider web calmed him in its regular rhythm and he tried to concentrate his fidgety mind on it. He stayed like that for few minutes, until he decided to lie on his side and checked the time on his alarm clock. It said 2:46 in green, glaring numbers. It was 2:32 the last time he looked. 

He could not stop random thoughts crossing his mind there and back. He thought of the latest project he was working on in R&D, then of a mission he directed yesterday, of _Game of Thrones_ season finale and theories for the seventh one, of lyrics of a song that was stuck in his head for two days and last but not least of James and all those inconceivable and delightful things he did to him when he came back from work. And one can’t very well stop thinking, right, unless one is a native shaman or a Tibetan monk who practice it their entire lives. Not that Q actually believed it would be possible to think of _nothing_. 

In addition, his stomach rumbled loudly. Apparently, one roll with salted butter does not count as an adequate dinner – which was almost five hours ago. “And I’m starving,” he continued mumbling aloud, because it wasn’t sufficient enough to think it. He got a craving for something sweet all of a sudden.

What has surprised him was that the agent lying next to him drowsily answered, “Then go and have a night snack and stop complaining, I wanna sleep too, you know, darling.” He did not open his mesmeric blue eyes and set his gaze on Q.

“Oh, do you really?” Q asked, smirking. His voice was melodic as always, without a hint of sleep. He couldn’t fall asleep then and he probably won’t now, so why couldn’t he take advantage of it, hmm? 

“Mmmmhhh,” was the only think James let out of his mouth, to Q’s wonder, and turned to face the wall on the other side of their bedroom. Not Q, _the bloody wall_. How dares he? And he stole the duvet from Q and took it all for himself to top it all. Wonderful. 

Perhaps he did it to get Q out of the bed, which was exactly what he was about to do, because James bloody well deserved it. Q silently raised to his feet, walked to James’ side, oblivious to the lack of glasses on his nose, and took the bottom part of the duvet that was tucked under James’ body. He pulled at it with all strength he had, causing James to roll out of bed and fall on the floor with a heavy thump and a displeased growl. _He was a spy with licence to kill and he was just humiliatingly rolled out of his bed on the floor in the middle of the night by his scrawny Quartermaster for no good reason._

James sat up, rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head where he hit the nightstand with one hand. He laughed, and despite the darkness, Q could see the adorable wrinkles round his eyes and his mouth stretched in a thin smile that eventually turned into a chuckle. Then, another abnormally loud thunder roared and Q jerked slightly. 

“Afraid of a storm, are we, Quartermaster?” jabbed Bond, deadpan, and Q was sure he put on that smug face he wore when they bantered—and the banter ended up in a shag, usually. 

“Shut up,” Q retorted and rolled his eyes, “arse.” 

He wanted to add another witty remark, when his stomach rumbled again, demanding something to fill and satisfy it. The growl was loud enough for James to hear it as well. He decided to miss an innuendo-ish comment off and go to the kitchen to grab something to eat, because he did not intend to listen to the annoying sound for the rest of the night. His stomach twisted inside his abdomen so it almost hurt. 

Q shuffled to the second cupboard on the left and took out a package of McVitie’s digestives. He fished out six biscuits and stuffed the whole of one into his mouth hungrily. Few crumbs fell on the kitchen tiles. He wanted to take a bite of another, when suddenly he felt bare, warm, muscular arms around his waist and one mouth biting at the biscuit closing to his own. He did not hear or see James approach him. Sleep seemed to have left his partner by now. 

Q gave up the digestive, putting it in James’ mouth, who accepted it thankfully and rewarded Q with a broad smile and a biscuit-y kiss on the neck that turned into six lazy kisses along his neck and jaw and a last one under his ear. Q kept eating the round biscuits and decided to take few more, since he was still hungry. 

“Will you go back to bed now, darling? And refrain from throwing me off the bed again, please,” he purred against Q’s shoulder and then yawned, not being able to hold the yawn back. He let go of him and made his way back to the bedroom, almost tripping over his own shoes he forgot he left in front of the bedroom door alongside Q’s as he pinned James against the wall, depriving him of his shirt. He swore under his breath and kicked the black oxfords out of the way.

“You wanted me out and now I am to go there? If you haven’t noticed, I’m not finished here quite yet, the hunger deserves more than eight wholegrain digestives, James. I am not going anywhere, so unless you intend to help me with disposal of yesterday’s chicken and potatoes you have to lie on your side of the bed, lone and surrounded with a feeling of warmth of the sheets fade away with every roar of a thunder.”

Q returned the red half-full cylinder of biscuits on its original place and moved to the cooker, where a dish with a half of a grilled chicken and five potatoes rested in peace, slowly nearing the end of their days. He put the cover aside and took the dish to the table. There was a lightning, not followed by a thunder this time. 

“Always so poetic, Q,” James shouted back and undoubtedly smirked. “But are you aware it’s three am and that isn’t exactly the right time for eating a cold chicken, so I must say no. I want to keep my figure, you know.” He jokes, as always. Q loved those jokes and all of James’ innuendos and the banter between the two of them. 

Q took a chicken leg and took a large bite. He could hear the duvet rustle as James crawled into the bed. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you are a pregnant woman before delivery.”

“Shut up, James. I can’t just let it go off, now can I? If you look at it from another perspective, it’s technically breakfast,” he replied with his mouth full. James snorted.


End file.
